


Death's Accord (part 2)

by Elliephant1018



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Body Horror, Childhood Trauma, Deal with a Devil, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Halloween, Hallucinations, Horror, Isolation, Mental Instability, Murder, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Rejection, Rituals, Small Towns, Stalking, Suspense, Talking To Dead People, Thriller, Trauma, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 16:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elliephant1018/pseuds/Elliephant1018
Summary: Anna Caplan was raised the only daughter of the town mortician. The other children, and some of the adults, find there is something off about her and subsequently avoid and bully her. It all culminates from the night Anna first spoke to one of the dead that found their way under her father's scrutinizing knife, the night when she learned that she was special.





	Death's Accord (part 2)

8  
There was a knock at the door as Mike had just got out of Sarah's shower. “Who the fuck?” He muttered and wrapped himself in one of her ridiculously pink (It's salmon Mikey, not pink) towels. Whoever was at the door hadn't stopped knocking.  
“Yeah, yeah, I'm comin', Jee-zus.”  
He looked through the peephole on the dorm door and saw a young woman through the fish-eye lens, one fist endlessly barraging the door in front of her with knocks, and the index finger of her other hand buried up to the second knuckle in her nose. Her black hair splayed out from her head in countless frizzy strands. She removed the excavating finger, examined her findings, and wiped it across the door to room 237, Wynn Hall.  
“Oh you've gotta be kidding me.” Mike opened the door.  
At first, Anna could only stare at him, utterly confused and... angry? Yes, Mike could see anger flash in her eyes if only for just a second before disappearing behind their glossy haze.  
“Sarah?” Anna asked.  
Mike scoffed, “Uh, no,” splaying his hands in a “look-at-me” gesture, “Obviously not.”  
“Where is she?” Her eyes scanned him, head to toe, apparently finding nothing of interest and leaned to peer past him, into the dorm as if she would find Sarah hiding in the shadows or even sitting on the couch simply trying to avoid her.  
Christ, she's a nutcase.  
Mike intercepted her gaze with his muscular frame. “Library, she's working on an essay and-”  
Anna nodded distantly, turned, and walked away.  
“H-hey!” Mike stepped into the hallway after her, “I really don't think you should bother her, she really needs to get this essay done! Hey asshole don't ignore me!”  
Anna made no indication that she had heard, and passed around the corner of the hallway.  
Mike scoffed once more and went back into the dorm.  
Still as weird as ever.  
He crossed the room to the table that they ate their meals on, picked up his phone, and texted Sarah:  
“Little miss Dahmer just stopped by looking for you...”

“Not funny jackass, tell her I'm at the library.” Sarah set her phone on the desk and turned back to the notebook before her. This essay had been assigned to her two weeks ago; “If you were able to have a thirty-minute conversation with anyone, living or dead, who would it be and why?” yet she found herself brooding about how uninspired the prompt was any time she sat down to do any work on the damn thing. The original notion of doing Abraham Lincoln (or some shit like that) passed quickly enough and she decided to write the essay about her father instead, she considered this a mature and serious response to an otherwise simplistic prompt, but she didn't know if she'd be able to do it.  
Sarah's father had died of a brain aneurysm when she was eleven years old. He always hosted the best barbeques for the entire cul-de-sac, and he often stayed up late the night before prepping and seasoning, making sure that everything would be perfect. Fourth of July, Labor Day, Memorial Day, he did 'em all. He died hosting a famous Brewer Barbecue-er, as he loved to call them, he died in front of the entire neighborhood, in front of his family, but most importantly; in front of the grill.  
The Brewers were not rich, but they were a far cry from a meager lifestyle; their spacious pool was the centerpiece of each barbeque, the neighborhood's children laughed and screamed as one tossed the other into it, some took turns on the diving board while their mothers tanned and gossiped, the men stood in groups of three or four discussing last night's game and how the opposing team could suck which part of which man, and some stood around the grill which Alan Brewer had always manned. He stood like a captain at the helm of a frigate, only a sea breeze replaced by a freshly mowed lawn and the captain's parrot was replaced by Jonesy the Labrador at his feet.  
He had been a lawyer for Citigroup Bank, working on an extensive claim against a tax-dodging, two-timer under the anonymous name of Johnson, as per the case file. The case lasted for about 16 months, all of which Alan barely saw his family besides sneaking into Sarah and Madi's rooms for a midnight kiss on their foreheads. When he had almost reached his breaking point, the case was settled and Alan was awarded two and a half million for his work in nailing Johnson. A year after the settlement, the Brewers were comfortably housed at the end of an upscale cul-de-sac free of monetary stress and able to work on what really mattered: the Brewer Barbecue-ers.  
Despite being a book-jockey, Alan had a great sense of humor which was mostly physical in nature. Sarah remembered how he used to dance as if he were stepping on hot coals when he fried bacon each morning, yelping out “Yowza!” or “Whoa momma!” each time some grease leapt from the pan to his bare chest. Sarah and her older sister Madi would play Princess Time which usually ended with Mr. Brewer, aliased Grumpy Snuffles the dragon, flailing wildly on the floor and screaming “Alas! I have been slain!” complete with an overly exuberant “BLEGH!” signifying the end of Snuffles the Fearful. It was because of his ostentatious and vocal humor that the initial reaction to his untimely and sudden demise was laughter.  
Still manning the grill, Jake Montague handed him his third beer of the day, casually asking Alan what his opinion was on yesterday's game; was it the right call to pull the main QB and ride the victory home on the shoulders of the starter-up rookie? Alan readied his response and opened his beer with a satisfying Ker-Schhh! At the same instant, Alan Brewer's mind quite literally snapped. Perhaps some neurons fired an incorrect synapse or a stealthy blood clot that had been growing over the past month had finally reached maturity and climaxed its destruction, either way he was suffering a brain aneurism. The bottle fell from his limp hand, he tottered with a rather comical slack-jaw look on his face and fell forward. The men huddled around him had mixed responses; some thought he was a lightweight sucker for passing out after only two beers and began laughing, others started forward and hesitated, unsure if this was a serious matter or simply another one of his plays to appease the neighborhood children.  
His legs collapsed beneath him, sending his upper body sprawling forward on top of the grill. He landed on his right cheek, between two patties which were now overcooked and thus inedible according to the late cook's personal beliefs, the sweet and putrid smell of burning meat wafted through the barbeque, Montague rushed to Alan's aid yelling, “Jesus Al, what the fuck!” he grabbed Al by the shoulders and slung him backwards off the grill. Alan collapsed to the patio as someone began screaming, his cheek was reduced to festering grill lines, burned a sickening shade of white.  
Sarah had been in the pool, watching her father cook, she saw everything and could never forget the shocked and glazed look in her dad's eyes as he stared at the pool and the children within. Another child and two women began screaming but most were frozen in place, not understanding what had just happened.

Every time Sarah attempted to work on the essay, her father's dead eyes seemed to glare back up at her through the empty page.  
She assumed it was the dreariness of her dorm room with its blank white walls that had made her memories of him so vivid as of late, so she decided to work on the essay at the library. There would be few people there, no doubt. But it would be good to get some fresh air as well.  
Sarah left Wynn hall and headed up Main street. The trees were an array of warm colors, a canvas of yellows dashed with oranges and splashed with reds, so beautiful... Memories of her family going camping and hiking through miles of similar trees bore an image to mind. Her father, at the peak of the foothill they had climbed, smiling and telling her; “That's it, you're almost there. You won't believe the view from up here Sarah Bear !”  
Maybe it was Fall. Maybe Fall had been making her constantly think about him. Sure, he loved his patented BBQs, but Fall had always been his favorite season. Sarah's favorite too.  
The library was in the large Community building which consisted of an auditorium, empty classrooms, the library, a Starbucks, and a Subway. Sarah entered the side with the Starbucks and could only think about how much better the coffee was over at The Human Bean. She had been right, there was the ever-vigilant librarian Mrs. Jeffords, a handful of students on the computers, and a couple reading in the corner.  
Her gaze drifted towards the entrance of the library as Anna walked in front of the Starbucks next to the entrance. Anna’s dark eyes scanned the room cautiously, Anna paused, looked at her phone, and gave the room another scan, looking for something. Or someone. Her eyes met Sarah's from across the room and the shy girl turned abruptly away. She looked again after building up some courage and Sarah waved her over, Anna gave a small, almost imperceptable nod and walked up to the table, her hands were picking incessantly at her fingernails.  
“Uh... Hey, Sarah.”  
“Well, well, well, if it isn't Miss Wednesday Addams herself!” Sarah said, leaning back in her seat. Anna's head cocked to the side in the way a terrier's might at the loud squeak of a toy. “Oh come on! You know, The Addams Family ring any bells?” Sarah began to sing, “They're creepy and they're kooky! Mysterious and spooky! They're altogether ooky! The Addams Family!” Both girls clapped twice completing the tune and Sarah began to laugh, Anna smiled a genuine, non-practiced smile and for a moment she was beautiful, for just a moment Sarah could see the piercing light behind Anna's eyes and her heart ached for the undoubtedly lonely girl. It’s okay, I’m lonely too. She thought.  
Mrs. Jeffords, the librarian, shot them a enormous SHHH! And slapped her index finger to her lips, both girls found this especially comical and attempted to stifle their laughter together. Anna took a seat next to Sarah and when they both regained control of themselves, Anna whispered:  
“What are you working on?”  
Sarah matched her pitch, “This ridiculous essay, I've had it due all month, but I guess I can't make myself work on it, I don't even know what he would say.”  
Another terrier look from Anna.  
Sarah slid the essay over to Anna, “Read the prompt on the top.”  
Anna did and her heart began to race. 'Thirty minute conversation with the dead huh?' She smirked.  
“I know,” Sarah responded, “It’s so cliché.”  
“So, who are you gonna do?” She continued to pick at her fingernails.  
Sarah turned toward Anna, no trace of the previous laughter was on her face now, “I want to write about my father.”  
“Oh.”  
Of course, Anna had known that Sarah's father passed when she was very little, but truth be told; there was very little Anna did not know about Sarah. Her favorite color was pink, her favorite food was Hawaiian pizza, her favorite music was pop, favorite pet: Jonesy the lab, her dream vacation spot: Barcelona, her favorite boy: Mike (though Anna tended to avoid thinking about him as much as she could), yet somehow she had overlooked the juxtaposition of their upbringing. One was wealthy, one was not. One had friends, one did not. One was clever, one was not. One had platinum blonde hair and the other's was black as obsidian for God's sake. Oh yes, Anna spent many hours per night contemplating the differences between the two of them, yet she never fully realized that they had something in common: a dead parent. Anna liked to think that she was “over” the death of her mother, but her subconscious knew better; she missed her mom dearly and their last encounter had left Anna with more questions than were answered. Sarah had to have felt the same way, about the grief that is, Anna doubted Sarah had quite the same feelings as her on the subject as a whole.  
'What would you say if I told you that we can talk to your father? What would you do then Sarah?'  
“Would writing about him be a bad idea?” Sarah asked.  
Anna shook her head, “No, it's- it's not that. I think it's a good idea.” Tentatively, she added, “Would you like some help?”  
“I was actually thinking about taking a walk around campus, I need to stretch my legs, get some fresh air, and blatantly procrastinate this assignment, wanna join?”  
Anna was already on her feet before Sarah had finished speaking. Sarah smiled at her eagerness. Anna was awkward and odd, but she was also endearing and cute. 'Especially when she smiles.' Sarah thought and the two girls left the library together.  
They ended up encircling the entire campus twice, Sarah found much to talk about after the months of solitude she had just gone through, well, solitude plus Mike but he only helped so much. She found that she missed the more attentive ear of a woman, Anna didn't say much but she really didn't have to, Sarah was perfectly happy doing all the talking, it felt as though a weight were being lifted from her chest and she relished every minute of it. Anna also enjoyed the time that they spent together, but her experience was more stressful with mere bursts of relief; Sarah would end many of her statements with an innocuous interrogative such as “Right?” or “You know?” Anna didn't know. She had no opinion on nearly every topic Sarah had brought to the table. Celebrities, Music, Movies, and worst of all: Mike, Anna didn't give a shit about any of them. She soon realized that Sarah's questions were rhetorical and that eased her stress a little, but she still felt horribly out of place as if it were only a matter of time before Sarah would realize how unequipped for conversation Anna was, which only made her more stressed. She didn't like when she panicked, sometimes she would lose herself within the grips of a panic attack and come to hours later, remembering none of it. She wouldn’t allow herself to make such a scene in front of her beloved.  
The two of them now sat at the far end of the campus “lake” though it was really just an oversized pond which sat on the northernmost point of the campus , not many students came down here on account of the stench which hung around the standing water in a boggy haze, but Anna and Sarah were on a bench overlooking the lake well out of the funk emanating from the water. They sat in silence, simply watching the reflection of the now setting sun on the gently rippling water, the sun cast brilliant shades of orange and red and purple, Sarah was reminded of grapefruit.  
“I want to help you on your essay.” Anna said without breaking her gaze on the water.  
Sarah smiled and looks into her lap, “At this point I'll take all the help I can get. I just,” she paused,” don't know what I'd ask him besides 'So, is there a God after all?' You know?” She laughed nervously and a heavy silence overcame them both.  
“I know what he would say.” Anna said, breaking the oppressive silence.  
Sarah scoffed, “How would you, you've never even met him.”  
“No, I haven’t but I can find out.”  
Sarah turned to look at her. She was expecting some sort of joke, that would be the Mike thing to do, but she saw no humor in Anna's eyes. Plus, Anna's own mother had died, and at a much more vulnerable point in her life, Sarah had trouble believing that she would kid on the subject.  
“How?” Sarah asked flatly.  
For a while, Anna said nothing, then she told Sarah everything that she could. She began with the first woman and the nineteen stab wounds, she skipped everything relating to the Messengers of Death and anything pertaining to Sarah. Anna recounted the story of the boy in the hospital, remembering his sorrow and how it had ebbed from him and she shed a tear. Sarah listened attentively, never interrupting or interjecting a word of defiance towards the tale, by the time she had finished recounting the fate of Lana Caplan (leaving out her fateful decisions of the past), a cool and blue night had descended. Crickets chirped and colonies of frogs croaked at the edge of the water.  
Sarah finally spoke, “Have you ever tried again?”  
Anna shook her head without facing her love.  
“But you wanna try again, for me?”  
Anna turned towards her, eyes wet, and nodded.  
Sarah ran a hand through her magnificent hair that seemed to glow with a faint fairy-light of perfection and sighed.  
“Do you believe me? I promise I wouldn’t make this up.”  
Did she? Sarah had no idea. She still didn't think Anna was joking, she spoke with too much sincerity for that to be the case. She started off slow, each sentence was more painful than the last, but by the end she had picked up speed and vigor, as if what she had told her needed to be told and had been bottled up for decades. She supposed if Anna was telling the truth, then it really had been decades. (Well, a decade and a half.)  
“No, I don't.” Sarah replied with kindness in her voice, “But I want to. I'd give anything to talk to my daddy again, it's just too much to immediately accept as truth.” Anna's eyes fell to the water once more. “No Ouija boards, no séance bullshit?” Anna shook her head. “Alright. Let's give it a try. Mike will be at practice tomorrow at six, come by my apartment then.”  
Anna looked towards her and nodded.  
“Oh shit! Mike!” Sarah plunged her hand into her purse and whipped out her phone. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” she muttered, “We were supposed to get dinner at seven, I totally spaced,” she explained and stood up with the phone held to her ear. To Anna she said, “Tomorrow, six o'clock, no Ouiji bullshit.” and to the phone she began, “I'm so sorry baby...” Sarah turned her back to Anna and began the walk back to her dorm room, the apologies faded with her.  
Anna remained on the bench for another hour contemplating the task ahead of her. Was she ready for another visit to the realm of the dead? Was she strong enough to do it? Yes, for Sarah, she would do anything.

9  
The two of them fought all night. Mike couldn't believe that Sarah had stood him up and Sarah was likewise shocked at his hypocrisy, after all, he had forgotten his fair share of dates as well. Mike was dominant by nature, but especially when they fought. He never hit her, but the thought was always in the back of his mind, it seemed to shut his mom up pretty good when his father did it but Mike wasn't sure if he wanted to be like his father in more ways than necessary, so he stayed his hand. Instead, his dominance was established through volume and size, he was easily a foot taller than Sarah and he loomed over her as he yelled his outrage.  
“So what the fuck was so important? I sat at Ricco's for two hours waiting for you, I looked like an asshole thanks to you. Was it that Benny kid? I seen the way you smile at that faggot-”  
Sarah cut him off, “For Chrissake Mikey he smiled at me, so I smiled back, sometimes people FUCKING SMILE.” She turned away from him, arms crossed over her chest, almost too quiet to hear, she muttered, “I was with Anna.”  
There was a period of silence after the echo of her previous scream had subsided, the silence was oppressive and hostile. “What did you say?” he over-enunciated each syllable.  
“Anna!” She screamed, “I went on a walk with Anna and I just lost track of time, I don't know what else to tell you, accidents happen.”  
Mike reached for her shoulders, spinning her around to face him, and pinned her against the wall. “What the fu-”  
“I told you to stay away from that freaky bitch, didn't I? DIDN'T I?!” His face was inches from hers and she had begun to cry.  
“Yes, I just thought-”  
“No. You fucking didn't, if you had any sort of brain, you would see the way that freak looks at you and you'd get a goddamn restraining order, but you don't see it, cuz you're a dumb fuckin' bitch!” He emphasized the last syllable by sinking his fist into the plaster half a foot from Sarah's head, drywall dust puffed onto her face and flecked her hair. Sarah screamed and they both could hear movement from the dorm next door; their neighbors had opened their door and were coming to Sarah's front door.  
Three heavy knocks on the door. “Hey,” the quavering voice of a boy cried, “ I heard a bang and some screaming, are you okay?” They both silently stared at one another.  
Mike turned from Sarah and walked up to the door. 'My God, he's going after him now!' Sarah thought as he swung the door open in his tantrum. The boy stepped back after feeling the heat of Mike's rage emanating from his body, Mike shouldered past him and stomped down the hall. The boy looked timidly at Sarah who was still on the wall, his eyes flicked from the hole in the wall to the plaster in her hair and asked once more if she was okay, Sarah nodded through her tears and motioned for him to leave her alone. The boy looked annoyed, he didn't have to come check on her anyway, but he did as he was told and Sarah heard the muffled bang of the boy's door slamming shut.  
Sarah slid down the wall and hugged her knees, she cried for a while, she knew this relationship was not healthy but she didn't know if she'd be able to end it, without him she would be all alone here. She supposed there was Anna, but after all the freaky shit Anna mentioned today, Sarah wasn't too sure how she felt about her anymore. Sarah thought about calling off the seance or whatever they were doing tomorrow, but she figured that was a decision to be made later.  
She could hear a small crowd of Wynn Hall residents gathering in the hall outside the still open door, no one peeked in but Sarah knew they were just out of sight, whispering and judging. 'There goes any remaining possibility of making friends here.'  
She fought her way to her feet and shuffled across the compact kitchen to the front door, she grabbed the handle and was suddenly looking into the verdant eyes of her neighbor from across the hall, she thought his name was Tyler but she wasn't sure. She tried to swing the door shut but Tyler had blocked it with his foot.  
“Hey, are you okay? Jeezus I thought he was gonna stomp so hard that the entire second floor woulda collapsed,” he cocked a half-smile and realized that Sarah was not impressed, she said nothing and only tried to shut the door again. “Alright, alright, just like... he didn't hit you right?” his voice dropped to a low whisper.  
She shook her head solemnly and stared at the floor. “Okay. Good. I mean, good given the circumstances, “ he trailed off unsure of how to continue, “If, uh, you need help, I'm right across the hall, okay?” She nodded again and he removed his foot from the door, it clicked shut and Sarah was suddenly exhausted. She crossed the room to the couch and collapsed on it, she cried once more but less enthusiastically and more because she had to release somehow, before long she was asleep.

Mike made his way down the double flight of stairs and through the lower halls to the lobby of Wynn Hall, the hall director, a shapely blonde with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, rose to her feet at his approach.  
“Sir, it's way past lights-out, I don't care what your quarrel is, I need you to-”  
“Shut the fuck up.” Mike said as he burst through the double doors and onto the street.  
The director scoffed and sat back down in her chair, “Whatever captain testosterone.” she huffed, locked the door, and picked up her magazine.  
It was a brisk night, the wind howled, and jack-o-lanterns lined the streets with their luminescent scowls, Halloween was only a week away afterall. He started down Jackson Avenue towards the 7/11, it was roughly three blocks away yet the heel of his shoe claimed the lives of four jack-o-lanterns before he reached it. Sarah forbid him from smoking while they were dating, but fuck her, Mike would smoke an entire pack in her name tonight.  
The 7/11 had a rusted old truck sitting at the only gas pump and a shiny sedan parked directly in front of the automatic doors. Mike entered the doors and saw a fat bearded man sifting his way through the beer fridge, a middle aged black woman was at the register purchasing a couple of lotto tickets and having them scratched off by the overtly goth teenager behind the counter. The edge was taken off his look by the bright green and red polo that he had to wear, if Mike weren't so angry he would have laughed out loud at the contrast. The woman and the clerk each gave Mike a passing glance, each noticed the residual wild in his eyes, and neither wanted to chance that rage being directed at them, so they each returned their gaze to the lotto tickets.  
“Alright, looks like you came out on top with a gain of $7,” the teenager said flatly, “Can I get anything else for you?”  
“No, that'll be fine, thank you.” She gave the boy a half-hearted smile, took her money, and moved out the door.  
The man looking through the beer muttered something to himself and Mike stepped up to the counter. “How can I help you?”  
“Reds, 100s.” Mike stared at the teen, challenging him to ask to see his I.D. The clerk didn't ask for it, he merely grabbed the pack and tossed it onto the counter.  
“Six forty-seven.” He obviously wanted as little interaction with Mike as possible and Mike couldn't agree more, the goth look stopped being funny and started to annoy him for some undefined reason. Mike handed him a ten and tapped impatiently on the counter, his gaze traveled to the multi-colored Bic lighters to his left and he slapped a red one on the counter. “That too.”  
The clerk looked up from counting Mike's change, sighed, and restarted the transaction. It was the eyeliner, Mike decided, he must be some kinda fag, they're always so prissy when things didn't go their way. He took his cigs and the lighter and left the 7/11. He continued down Jackson Avenue, intending to spend his evening in the little park that he desperately hoped was empty.  
Of course he knew he was over-reacting; Sarah hadn't cheated on him with Benny, as he had originally thought, but the mention of that freaky bitch Anna’s name just boiled his blood. He hadn't lied to Sarah when he told her some unnatural instinct flared in him whenever Anna was near or even mentioned. The time she showed up at Sarah's dorm, Mike had felt so naked and vulnerable, and not because he only had a towel wrapped around his lower waist. He felt her eyes pour over him, not in a sexual way, rather he felt her size him up. It was ridiculous, he must have at least a hundred pounds on her and he would be more than happy to teach that bitch to mess with him or his girlfriend, but at that moment he felt small and childlike; she looked through him and his heart filled with terror. When she left, he felt drained, his heart still raced and he spent the next fifteen minutes staring alternately at his reflection and his shaking hands. Something was seriously wrong with that girl and he couldn't stand the thought of Sarah with her, especially not alone.  
The shrubs to the right of the sidewalk broke away and Mike reached the park, there was an empty playground which towered over the restrooms next to it, a fat red spiraling slide wrapped around its main tower and seemed to glow in the moonlight. A vast and immaculate clearing opened across the path from the playground, it was a soccer field complete with two un-netted goals on each side. Last week Sarah and Mike had watched a group of friends play a scrimmage on it, the day had been rainy and the field was muddy, but it looked to be in much better condition now. A little further down the path, there was a short bridge that arched over a creek which carved its way through the park. The creek's flow was weak and anyone would've been able to step across it, but some town designer yuppie probably thought a bridge would be the most aesthetically pleasing option. Mike rolled his eyes and wandered towards the bridge, his hands already peeling the foil out of the pack of cigarettes and dropping it behind him. His hope for the park to be empty came true; there was no one in sight. He sat on the arch of the bridge and let his legs dangle off the side, he lit the first cigarette and inhaled deeply.  
It had been six months since he had last smoked, he hadn’t smoke often and he never really got hooked on them, he liked to tell himself that he liked the taste, even though they just tasted like dirty air to him. He coughed horribly, regained himself, and spat into the creek below him. He did not hear the rustle of movement below him. He let the smoke roll up into his face, the smell of cigarettes was nostalgic and calming to him. His father had smoked two packs a day for over forty years, so his house always smelled of tobacco. He bounced his foot in an automatic and rhythmic manner, his anger already ebbing away as he forced himself to think of something, anything besides Anna. There was the sound of something scraping against stone, and a deep Plop! as something fell into the water below him, he started briefly but chalked it up to only being a squirrel.  
Below him, a hand creeped upwards, now inches away from his dangling foot.  
He hadn't taken another puff of the cigarette, and it had burned about half way, leaving a fragile stack of ash which burned faintly before being broken off by the wind. Mike felt a brief touch of something on his left ankle, it had just registered in his brain when the hand clamped over his left foot and tugged him downward, whatever had latched onto him was either really heavy or exceptionally strong, a blaring cry rose from beneath the bridge and Mike screamed and kicked at whatever was holding onto his ankle. The smoldering half-cigarette fell from his fingers, burning the back of his hand as it fell off the bridge and towards whatever lay below. Suddenly, the grip was released and the cry was replaced by laughter, a woman's laugh.  
The girl was still laughing as she bounded from the shadows of the bridge, up some rocks, and onto the path. “Ah man, that was good.”  
Mike's heart felt like it was about to explode. “What the fuck! Why would you do that?!” His hand fluttered over his chest and he began to calm down, seeing that he was in no harm, but merely the butt of this girl's joke.  
“You were just danglin' there man, I had to!” She laughed once more and walked towards him.  
She was tall for a girl, maybe 5'11”, her hair was dark but he couldn't make out the color in the dim moonlight, her hips were wide and enticing, she swung them expertly as she sauntered over to him. Mike's surprise and anger were eclipsed by the woman before him, she had scared the shit outta him but that wasn't the only reason his heart threatened to leap from his chest.  
“Ya know,” she began in a low voice, “I never fully understood the 'deer in headlights' look until now, you look like you're gonna faint. Oh shit, you don't have like a heart problem or something do you?” She crouched next to him, squinting, trying to see if she needed to call for help.  
“No, you just... got me good, I guess.”  
She grinned, her teeth glowing in the faint moonlight, “I did, didn't I?”  
Mike opened his pack and pulled out cigarette number two, the mysterious girl plucked a cigarette of her own out of the pack with deft fingers and sat next to Mike, both of their legs dangling off the side of the bridge now. Mike shot her a look that said “You could've at least asked first.”  
She barked a short laugh, “By the way you were coughing before, there's no way you were gonna smoke all these buddy, I'm doin' you a favor.” There was a momentary silence as both of them lit their cigarettes, the girl had produced her own lighter. “So what's up with the picturesque brooding session ya got goin' on here? No offense, but you don't really look like the thinking type, couldn't punch your way outta somethin’?” Mike blew smoke out the corner of his mouth and into the girl's face.  
“Just who exactly are you?” Mike asked, his anger was almost fully replaced by curiosity of this strange girl.  
She took a long drag on her cigarette and blew it out, she put on a raspy voice and said: “I am the troll under the bridge.”  
“Very funny.”  
“Don't dodge questions.”  
He raised his eyebrows, “Then what exactly did you just do?”  
She ignored him, “What are you doing out here?”  
Mike sighed,  
“Oooh, long tall and handsome has got lady problems.” She punched Mike's arm playfully and took another drag . “Shoulda known, it's always a girl.”  
Mike nodded and tended to his own cigarette, the two of them sat in silence for a moment.  
“So, what happened then?” She asked.  
Mike shook his head, “Just bein' a fuckin' idiot as always.”  
“You or her?”  
“Both, I suppose, maybe mostly me. Why am I even telling you this, I don't even know your name and you don't care.”  
“I asked.” She reminded him.  
“Right.” Silence,  
“What about you, then?” Mike began, “Why are you out here?”  
She flicked the butt of her cigarette into the mild, nearly stagnant creek below them. “Family shit, nothing interesting, really. Sometimes I come out here to have a smoke or some peace and quiet, I go under the bridge so campus patrol doesn't see me and think I'm some college junkie.”  
Mike interjected, “Do you make a habit of grabbing dangling feet?” and flicked cigarette number 2 away. She smiled.  
“No, smart ass, I saw them beefy calves and knew you could take my weight, what do you do by the way, lift cars on your off time?” Now Mike was laughing.  
In truth, Mike was quite proud of his appearance, he had a rigorous routine of a three mile run in the morning, weight lifting at the gym for at least two hours a day, football practice everyday except Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and another three miles before bed, all of this of course matched with a carefully monitored diet made Mike into a muscled, proud, narcissistic man and he welcomed the appreciation from another. Sarah rarely complimented him or showed much interest in his above average muscle mass, they rarely had sex and when they did, it was unenthusiastic and often disappointing for both of them, Mike forgot how it felt to be admired and suddenly found that he had longed for it.  
He flipped open the pack and held it in front of the girl, “Football, actually.” She took another cigarette and smiled, “Of course you play football, same reason why Yao Ming plays basketball; you've just got the body for it.” She gave him a theatrical head-to-toe scanning and shot him a wry smile.  
Mike's sexual depravities came rushing over him in an instantaneous and glowing wave, the man's cognitive thoughts took a back seat as he began to think with the mind between his thighs. The girl remained a total stranger, Mike was certain he would have remembered if he'd seen her before with her commanding figure and sultry gaze, but none of that seemed to matter right now. The phrase “Fuck Sarah.” looped endlessly in the back of his mind, if she wanted to be around that freak so bad then so be it: whatever danger Anna represented, Mike decided that Sarah deserved what she got.  
After some time and a couple choice statements between the two of them, the nameless girl invited him back to her place, Mike considered for a brief moment before his thoughts were drowned out by the constant urging in his pants and nodded. She took Mike by the hand and pulled him to his feet, the pack of cigarettes, now diminished significantly in quantity, fell from his hand and splashed forgotten into the creek.

10  
He was standing behind his grill, as he always did, but something was off about the scene before Sarah; it seemed clouded and distant, her focus wouldn't break from his eyes (Those cold, dead eyes.) Suddenly she saw the fault in the scene, it was like those optical illusions with a hidden image within; once you saw it, you could never un-see it. The grill was in the middle of the living room of Sarah's childhood house, smoke plumed upwards from the grill, she never remembered the grill producing such a mess before as her father took care that it was always in peak condition, yet the bulky thing continued to haze the room.  
She attempted to speak to her father and discovered her inability to speak, it was as though her lips were glued together and her vocal cords had been snipped, yet she was oddly calmed by it, she was content to simply watch her father do what he loved most. The sight did not give her joy but instead a nauseating mixture of longing affection and screaming anxiety. The room continued to fill with smoke and pictures that hung on the walls began to soot over, the picture's inhabitants were soon hidden behind an ashy curtain. Her father worked attentively on some piece of unseen meat, it smelled like pork to Sarah, except sweeter..  
He made no sign that he had noticed her, he seemed wholly investing in whatever he was grilling to the point where Sarah could see the straining veins of intense focus pulsing at his temple. His face began to twitch slightly, his tongue played at the corner of his mouth the way that he used to when the two of them used to play chess together and she had pinned him in a particularly tough spot. Sarah stood up from where she was seated and turned to see if it was the old leather couch that belonged in this particular living room, but there was nothing behind her save for a bare, yellow wall. She turned back and made her way to the grill, with each step the grill seemed to take two steps towards her as well, the result of which gave the grill a growing, ballooning effect. She was lightheaded from the billowing smoke and she was only able to see about a foot in front of her now. Her hands reached instinctively before her, using the radiating heat of the grill to direct her. The grill was bigger than it originally was, taller too. She quickly deduced with the wholehearted acceptance of the dreamscape that she was looking through the eyes of her child self.  
There was a shape in the center of the grill, but the constant flow of smoke obscured it almost completely. She edged closer but still couldn't make it out. She glanced towards her father, but she could only see his hands, arms trailing backward into an obsidian cloud. She edged closer still, practically hanging over the grill now and tried to scream once the smoke cleared enough for her to see what he was cooking. She was, however, unable to scream and only produced a muffled and pained grunt of shock. Her father's face lay in the center of the grill, charred grill lines looked like seared canyons in his cheeks and his empty lips hung open and loose. His hands reached towards the face and lifted it off the grill, ignoring the heat on his burning fingers and held it stretched out in front of him. A maddening and cackling skull burst through the wall of smoke and buried itself behind the flap of skin that used to kiss her goodnight. The face hung loosely and the skull continued to cackle incessantly, causing the face to fall askew, the skull was even wearing a ball cap that said 'Brewer Barbecue-er 2007'  
Sarah jolted awake.  
A dream. Of course it was a dream, she wasn't in the smoldering living room from her childhood, she was at State University in her bed, alone. Mike? Oh, right. He threw another one of his tantrums last night and he must've drove home instead of coming back to her. This wasn't the first time he had been out all night, but it still annoyed Sarah and it slipped an ice-cold splinter of anxiety through her stomach.  
She rolled out of bed and made her way to the kitchen to brew herself some coffee. She replayed their fight a couple times in their head; she remembered accidentally standing him up which led to him mentioning The Benny Incident as she had taken to thinking of it. The Benny Incident was a standing representation of Mike's lack of trust in her, Benny was a boy in Sarah's Sociology class who Sarah and Mike ran into while getting dinner one night. Mike sat at the table, thinking Sarah was behind him, when Sarah had actually gone to say hello. But apparently Mike had such little faith in her that to this day, he still brought it up in fights, believing it to be some sort of leverage in his favor. 'He really is a child,' she thought. It seemed with each passing day, the negatives of leaving Mike were being heavily outweighed by the positives. Maybe one day she would have the strength, but not today, today would be for cleaning, hopefully she will be able to patch the hole Mike had so graciously left in the drywall, today was also for contacting the dead if Miss Caplan was to be believed. And did she believe her? She wanted to believe her, of course she did. She missed her dad, she remembered the cackling skeleton wearing her father's face and shuddered, she didn't miss that dad though. Anna had mentioned a diseased parody of her own mother when she contacted the afterlife, Sarah supposed it would be possible that her father should have his own doppelganger, that was assuming Sarah actually believed her.  
'Or!' The rational portion of Sarah's brain said, 'It could've just been a dream, you know, those moments where literally anything can happen and often contain elements of the previous day in them?' Right. Probably just that. Probably.  
So she drank her coffee and she vacuumed the dorm and she washed the dishes and she set them to dry and she did two loads of laundry and she put the dry dishes away and she did all of these chores in silence, reflecting on her nightmare. She began brewing her third pot of coffee at three p.m. Anna would be here at six, Sarah had no idea what to expect from the evening; she was afraid of Mike making an appearance which could turn ugly again, especially if Anna were there. Sarah had been unable to fix the hole in the drywall, so she instead pinned a decently replicated copy of Van Gogh's Sunflowers over it. A single crack in the plaster jutted out inconspicuously from the top right corner of the painting, but otherwise she was confident that Anna wouldn't know it was there.  
She decided that she had better attempt to defuse the Mike situation before anything catastrophic could happen tonight. She picked up her phone and called him. It rang through to his voicemail. She hung up, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of an apology over voicemail. She called again, this time it only rang twice before starting his pre-recorded voice: “Hey, this is Mike, sorry I couldn't-” “Sorry I couldn't be an adult and not dodge your calls.” Sarah finished for him as she hung up the phone again. She scolded herself for thinking that he would answer her.

11  
“Who was it?” The mystery girl asked, poking her head out from under the covers. Mike shot her a look which said “Don't ask stupid questions.”  
Except she wasn't a mystery girl anymore, in fact, Mike was confident that there was little about her that he remained unacquainted with, the two of them had been at it until about four in the morning. He learned that her name was Charlotte, or maybe that was just the name she preferred to be called in bed, Mike decided that he didn't really care. The truth of the matter was; Charlotte must've been just as sexually deprived as Mike was, but the two of them quickly remedied their depravities.  
“Don't give me that look.” She whined. Mike pushed the covers off himself and got out of bed, he was still naked and he scanned the room looking for where he or she had tossed his clothes. Charlotte stood on her knees, revealing the naked front half of her body, “And where do you think you're going mister? You're gonna leave me cuz she called you? I thought you were done with her.”  
He gave her a sly smile, but there was a hint of regret in his eyes, “I don't know what she is to me right now.” He found his shirt strung across the top of her dresser and put it on.  
“So you're really leaving me?”  
“Just for now. I need some air.” He explained.  
Charlotte collapsed into the bed once more and pouted, “Fine. But don't keep me waiting too long.” She saw him scanning the room for his pants and she pointed towards the door to her bedroom, Mike smiled, picked up his pants and underwear off the floor and put them on.  
He didn't know if he should go back to see Sarah, after all, she didn't have to know about Charlotte did she? As he left Charlotte's dorm and entered the hallway, a young man's voice said, “Oh, hey Mike, almost didn't recognize ya.” Mike looked up and saw Vincent “Vinny” Marcos, he was a mousy boy with tightly pursed lips and beady eyes, the two of them had a checkered past and Vinny had often been the butt of many of Mike's jokes, some of which were far less funny than the rest.  
“Hey Vinny.” Mike sighed, he didn't like being seen leaving the girl's apartment, he felt like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  
“I thought you were over in Kaiser Hall, what're you doin' here?” Vinny peered past Mike and into the closing door, he caught a faint glimpse of someone moving beneath the mass of white blankets on the bed. “Ah, I see.” He nudged Mike with an elbow, “Finally left that Sally girl huh?”  
“Sarah. It's Sarah, and I don't know, mind your own fuckin' business dude.” Mike was suddenly conscious of his messy hair and bad breath, on top of that, Mike noticed that he buttoned his shirt on crookedly and he somehow was only wearing one sock. There was no way to deny that Mike and Charlotte had had sex.  
“Right, sorry man.” The two of them parted ways and Mike figured he would walk around the campus, he felt for his pack of cigarettes and remembered the pack falling into the creek last night.

12  
It was five thirty and Anna would be around very soon. The apartment was spotless, practically sparkling. Sarah lit multiple candles which filled the air with a lemon-sugar scent that she had found pleasant and calming.  
She decided about an hour ago that she would do everything in her power to maintain an open state of mind while Anna was over. Anna could easily just be an eccentric girl who dropped too much acid a few too many times, but Sarah decided it would be ignorant to simply shrug off everything that Anna had told her last night, the things she had said with absolute certainty and unwavering belief.  
Besides, it was October 29th and the essay was due on the 1st of November, maybe Anna would be able to actually help her finish it.

The day had been full of distractions and on a day like today, such things were unacceptable, if Anna was going to venture into the realm of the dead once more then she was going to need every ounce of her concentration.  
Her typical morning routine consisted of skipping breakfast entirely, perhaps making a cup of coffee, and sitting in front of her computer prowling Sarah's social media accounts, trying to pinpoint her location for the day. Today, however, Anna knew exactly where Sarah would be, and she was invited, actually invited! Yesterday's walk around the campus with Sarah and Anna's partial confessions had replayed itself endlessly in Anna's mind, she could remember everything; the harsh bite of the autumn wind, the scent of Sarah's earthen and enticing perfume, and of course, the way her magnificent hair danced in the wind, Anna could hardly believe they were spending time together again so soon.  
She spent the majority of the night filling fifteen pages of notes in her current Sarah journal with things she had learned through Sarah's constant talking, questions that were never answered directly, and her own assumptions to fill in the missing gaps in Sarah's life. The Anthology of Sarah consisted of roughly twenty-one spiral notebooks each filled to the brim with Anna's concise and spidery handwriting. This was the most she had written about a single day in Sarah's life, the runner-up happened to be the day Anna learned about the death of Sarah's father. Anna discovered that she had much to say on the topic of parental death and just kept writing. The pages flowed together, slowly melding into a vulnerable outpouring of emotions Anna had not consciously known she felt, but upon re-reading what she had written, Anna decided to burn the thirteen pages so as to never read them again.  
This morning, she had awoken easily and felt refreshed and excited for the events ahead of her today. She still did not eat breakfast as she found it difficult to eat anything before at least noon but she made a cup of coffee and picked up a journal labeled “April 2006 – February 2007” and began to read in the only chair that sat in her dorm, a worn and navy blue lazy boy recliner.  
Anna enjoyed reading her old journals, her handwriting sometimes proved difficult to read, especially in some of the earlier journals, but she found she was able to remember the events of most days without needing to read each word as most entries included an event that Anna believed would have some sort of effect on Sarah's development, some would have a substantially larger effect than others, but Anna wrote indiscriminately. Sarah's big solo in the eight grade musical rendition of The Wizard of Oz., her first menstrual cycle, the first time she was publicly recognized for her outstanding score on a state exam, the day she sat next to Anna and asked to borrow a pencil in history class, the day she started dating her first boyfriend, high school graduation and her generous scholarship to State university, and of course, the first day she spoke to Anna at the Human Bean Cafe to name a few.  
And always the Halloween parties. Sarah loved Halloween, it was her favorite holiday and she always threw the biggest parties. Before coming to State, she had an almost constant following of friends, some came and went as childish drama dictated but the group always consisted of roughly ten people. All of them were invited every year and were encouraged to bring five people along with them, Sarah's mom loved to host almost as much as Sarah's father had and she had no issues with the annual party. This would be the first year to break the seven year tradition, and Anna knew Sarah was not happy about it.  
Anna put the journal back in the pile, thinking for the hundredth time about how she should really get a shelf for all of them, and entered the bathroom. She owned no makeup, her bathroom was empty save for her toothbrush, toothpaste, and a single pin/bristle brush though she only ever used the pin side. She used the bristle side once, and roughly two handfuls of hair had come clean off her head. She honestly had no idea why her hair did this, she'd seen doctors and experts and none held any answers for her. Anna's father once told her it must be genetic as her mother's frizzy hair had done a similar thing even before she was diagnosed with cancer which had only quickened her balding. As a child, Anna convinced herself for a short period of time that she had caught her mother's cancer from sleeping next to her hospital bed one too many times, but her parents assured her that cancer was not contagious and suggested she brushed her hair gently and only when necessary, this led to Anna's raven-black hair occasionally forming a raven's nest on her head.  
Her hair had thinned dramatically since moving to college. Anna had often thought she had shed enough hair in her lifetime to complete at least three other full heads of hair, but she had never seen any substantial difference until she came to State.  
She held a lock of her diminished hair up to the mirror and decided that this would not do. There was no way that she could see Sarah, her sweet Sarah, while looking like this. She grabbed her bag which contained no journals, but simply her wallet, keys, and a copy of L'Etranger by Camus, and she began walking down Alan avenue towards a small shopping center two miles away.  
It was a Saturday on a relatively busy street but there was a surprising lack of traffic either on the road or off of it. There was only one man that Anna saw, he was walking the opposite way down the street; he was wearing a brown three-piece suit with a matching bowler on top of his head, Anna thought he belonged on some 60's noir crime show, he was walking a massive hound to his left. Anna spent a brief moment trying to place the breed of dog and she finally came up with Irish Wolfhound, this one however was more auburn than grey as they typically were. The man walked with a stiff gait, his knees hardly bent with each step and his loafers clapped importantly as he traveled past Anna and shot her a toothy grin, a single golden tooth winked at her. The dog was watching her with great interest, tail unmoving and stride uninterrupted. Anna thought nothing of it and continued on her walk.  
She reached the shopping center which was decorated profusely for Halloween: little pumpkin lights strung from every light post, hay bales were stacked between stores with chalkboard easels planted in the center advertised a particular store's Halloween sales, there was even a hot apple cider stand which was vacant save for a bored looking teenager on her phone. Anna walked past all the expensive stores, careful not to look in just to see something she knew that she would never be able to afford, after-all, she only had $23 in cash. Something did catch her eye however, it wasn't a piece of clothing but rather a reflection in the front window of a store. Between two mannequins, one wearing a red and black flannel and the other wearing a grey sweatshirt and matching beanie, Anna could make out the iridescent reflection of the noir man's Irish Wolfhound. She leaned closer towards the window, the dog sat across the parking lot, well past fifty yards away, but Anna could make out nearly every detail; its coat seemed substantially more matted and mangy than when she had seen it only moments before, the man was no longer with the dog, and there was an unmistakable splotch of crimson on the corner of the dog's mouth.  
Anna reeled around, searching across the lot but there was nothing there.  
An associate from the store she was standing in front of peeked his head out from behind the heavy glass doors, “Ma'am? Is everything okay?”  
Anna faced the man, aware that her eyes were still open perhaps a little too wide to be considered “okay” and assured him that she was anyways. The man gave a weary nod and retreated back inside the store.  
“Halloween.” a distant voice whispered from the center of her forehead. “Hallow's eve.” Anna shuddered. The voice had also become more active since she came up to State and this was typically all it ever said in its grave and ambiguous voice that could easily be mistaken for the autumn breeze.  
She continued walking past the store, painfully aware of the man staring at her through the display window. She entered the next store which served as a clothing donation drive for all students of State University. All she had to do was show the clerk her school I.D. and she would be able to browse all the unwanted or unused clothes that had been relinquished by University students, $5 per item , $8 for two, or $10 for three. Anna continuously looked out the broad window that faced the hauntingly empty parking lot, and focused on the spot where the dog had been. 'It's just a dog, why are you so spooked?' But it wasn't just a dog, maybe it was Houdini's dog because as far as Anna could remember: dogs didn't simply vanish out of thin air.  
She found a clearance box marked “$2!!!” and was pleased to see that it mostly contained accessories, the rest were gaudy hulking pieces of jewelry which Anna assumed would forever remain there.  
The clerk, a portly middle-aged woman in a red vest sporting the store's logo, approached her and asked for her I.D. Anna fished it from her bag and the woman returned to sorting new arrivals at the counter. Anna was the only customer.  
It took her awhile to find a hat that did not have a hole, or State's mascot tiger, or any sort of mystery stain on it, and the only suitable candidate was a plain and cheaply made white cotton beanie. Anna wished it wasn't white as it would contrast with her hair and draw more attention to herself where she would rather people just pass her over without a second glance.  
Since learning of her ability, Anna felt separated from her peers, she was superior and she knew it, in fact it was possible that Anna was the only person to ever possess this ability (though Anna really believed that many before her had been given this gift too), how could she not realize her superiority? She cared little for anyone. Anyone save Sarah Brewer of course.  
Once she had cared for her father, once she had even loved him but she had matured far too early, mostly thanks to him, and she recognized his vital dependencies on both Anna's mother and subsequently his alcohol. She no longer saw her father as the all-knowing, dragon slaying, hero of her childhood, she saw him in the same way as she saw her teachers. That's all he could give her now anyway: knowledge. After all, he had inclined a burning interest in her for the spot of the undertaker, so she listened and she learned but she no longer loved.  
She decided that white hat would have to do after all and walked up to the counter. She paid for the hat and walked out the door, taking one last look across the lot to where the dog had been before starting to walk back to her dorm, it would be six soon and she had a date with her beloved. Her original plan was to return to her dorm and grab her current journal, but looking at the time now, 5:43, she decided that she would have to make due without it, Anna was positive she would remember every detail of tonight's events.  
She turned onto Jackson Avenue, passed the 7/11, the park, and a row of half-rotted and smashed Jack-o-lanterns, there was an elderly man scooping up the remains of one of them while grumbling incoherently to himself. Anna paid him no attention, she was lost in her imagination and anxiety for the task ahead of her. She found herself asking some of the same questions she had asked herself on the night before contacting her mother; Would she even be able to do it again? She had no connection to Alan Brewer save for his daughter, but Anna didn't believe this would be strong enough for her to make contact. She was mortified of the possibility of letting Sarah down.  
She had, in fact, been so consumed in her own thoughts that she failed to notice the lumbering dog stalking slowly behind her.  
She looked at her phone, 6:15, 'Dammit, this walk always takes longer than I plan for.'  
The wind had picked up, slinging discarded wrappers and fallen leaves into a micro-tornado harmlessly spinning across Jackson Ave.  
She finally arrived at Wynn Hall and pressed the intercom button in order to be buzzed in by the Hall Director. No response. She reached to press the button again and once more she saw the reflection of the Wolfhound behind her. She turned but this time, the dog did not vanish. This time, the dog's face was slicked back with a blackish coating of either some kind of horrible sap or blood, Anna thought it was the latter. The dog sat regally, ears perked upright and ready. The hound regarded her for a moment before peeling back it's lips to reveal immaculately white and unmistakably human teeth shining in a gloating smile. The noir man's golden tooth winked at her from the dog’s mouth and the blood rushed out of her face, she turned back to the door and began viciously pounding her fists against it. “Lemme in! Lemme in! Lemme in!”  
The director came trotting up to the door and unlatched the lock, Anna pushed past her and slammed the door behind her.  
“Miss, I-” The director began.  
“Do you see it?!” She nearly screamed.  
The director followed Anna's pointing finger but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. “I don't- Miss are you okay? Are you hurt?”  
Anna looked back to the dog, but it was gone once more. “I'm- I'm fine, yes. I just- Never mind.” she walked past the director and took the stairs two at a time.  
The director glanced back in the direction she had pointed and only saw a man in a fine brown suit walking a rather large but completely ordinary dog. “It never ends with this shit here.” She said and returned to her lunch which was now undoubtedly burned on the stove thanks to this distraction.  
Anna reached the second floor and found dorm 237, she took a deep breath, re-centered the white beanie on her head, frowned, offset the beanie in a way that she hoped didn't look stupid, and knocked on the door.

13  
“Finally.” Sarah went to the door and opened it. Anna stood before her, was she trembling? Her face was even paler than usual, Sarah wasn't sure what was going on but she could tell that Anna was terrified for some reason.  
“Anna, what's wrong? Good God you look-” She was going to tell her that she looked like she had seen a ghost, but she remembered that if anyone could see a ghost it was probably Anna and her words stopped dead in her throat.  
Anna entered, shaking her head. “Nothing. It's nothing. Yes, just nothing.”  
“Uh okay.” There was a moment of immense silence between the two of them before Sarah said, “Sorry, please, make yourself at home.”She gestured towards the white sofa and Anna sat, taking in the room.  
“You cleaned.” Anna said.  
Sarah went to the fridge and opened it, “Well yeah, I wouldn't be a very good host if I didn't, you want a beer? Mike always buys the cheapest he can find but I actually like these.”  
“No thank you.”  
“Suit yourself.” Sarah sat next to Anna on the couch and opened her beer, “So honestly though, are you okay? No offense, but you look horrible, did something happen on the way over here?”  
Anna nodded faintly then said, “No, oh I don't know. Nothing actually happened, I just- saw something.”  
Sarah raised an eyebrow, “What kind of something?”  
“A man and his... dog?”  
“Oh?” Sarah said, “Did the man do something to make you uncomfortable?”  
“No, just, really just forget it okay?”  
“Uh, yeah, okay.” There was another moment of silence before Anna broke it.  
“What happened to the wall?”  
Sarah looked over at the replica painting covering the spot where Mike had punched the wall, only a thin crack in the wall protruded the frame but at this distance it was practically invisible. “How did you know?”  
Anna shrugged, “That painting used to be closer to the window, it looked better over there, the only reason to move it would be a cover-up job. Did he hurt you?”  
Sarah was shocked, Anna always had such a distant and almost vacant look on her face so the fact that she was actually this observant was incredible to her. “I- no. No he didn't, he just punched the wall. How did you know where the picture used to be?”  
“I came by looking for you one day. Mike was here, I saw into the apartment. I have an eidetic memory,” Anna explained, “It's the only reason I graduated, I never study.”  
“So the mystery girl unravels some more.” Sarah smiled, “That must come in handy, to be able to remember everything like that.”  
Images flashed through Anna's mind in quick succession: the librarian with her many stab wounds and flattened breast, the boy who had died much too soon and his cold cherubic face, and finally the lumbering amalgam which haunted her dreams and stalked her monolith.  
“You'd think so.” Anna said.  
Sarah reached behind the arm of the sofa and pulled out the small laptop that Anna recognized from the Human Bean. “Alright,” Sarah said, “so how is this gonna work? You... do whatever it is you do and then I'll record what he says?”  
“You do whatever you wanna, but Sarah, I gotta be honest with you; I don't know if this is gonna work.” Anna said.  
Sarah thought for a minute, “So, everything that you said at the lake was bullshit?”  
“No! Every word of it was true Sarah, I'd never lie to you. I'm not exactly sure how to put this. There's no, uh, connection between me and your father. I think I was able to contact my mom because, well she's my mom ya know?”  
Sarah shook her head and smiled, “No I really don't know, but I think I understand the gist of what you're saying. Do you think there's anything we can do to like, force a connection of sorts?”  
“I don't know. Like I told you before, I only ever did it once, it almost felt like an accident, like I had walked into the wrong classroom while daydreaming, I didn't try to make a connection, it just happened, so maybe this time I will try. Whatever that means. Do you have a picture of him or anything? Maybe that will help.”  
Sarah nodded and clacked away on her laptop, she then turned the screen to show Anna a picture of her father and Sarah when she was a child. Sarah's father was a handsome man, he had a sharp and angular jawline, his sandy blonde hair was worn short and messy, and he had thin horn-rimmed glasses that gave him an educated look. Anna had no trouble believing that this man used to be a banker, but the laugh lines on his face underlined his playful and comical personality.  
Anna closed her eyes, leaving the imprint of his smiling face on the inside of her eyelids. “Okay, when you think of your father I want you to list off anything that you identify him with; sights, smells, words, songs, anything that can help me get a better lock on his personality.”  
Sarah was thoughtfully silent for a moment. “The smell of oak and sawdust. Plaid button-down shirts.” Sarah also closed her eyes now, “He used to sing 'Pride and Joy' to me and my sister, he'd sing all the guitar parts and would improvise during the parts he couldn't remember.” Sarah smiled. “But that feels like another lifetime ago.”  
Both girls were silent. “Anna?” Sarah asked.  
The overhead light, which was the only one on in the apartment, began to flicker rapidly, the room began to feel abnormally hot to Sarah, the temperature continued to rise and she was reminded of the flash of heat that would escape her mother's pre-heated oven when she would open it to place the cookies inside, but there was nothing comforting about this heat, it was unnatural and pervasive. Sarah began to feel light-headed and she thought she was about to pass out when suddenly, the light above the two of the girls shattered, spraying bits of glass over the two of them.

Anna's eyes were shut. She saw the image of Sarah's father and tried to imagine it in motion, the way it laughed, the way it cried, the way it kissed its daughters goodnight. Alan Brewer began to flow in her mind, his image was no longer simply an image but a living being within Anna's imagination, she began to fill in the gaps in her imagination as information about the man fed into her from somewhere unknown.  
She imagined a man, six feet in height, angular jawed, laughing, and smelling sweetly of sawdust. Though, she could smell something else too. Was that bacon? It smelled so sweet! Was Sarah cooking bacon right now? No, of course not, that's absurd. But then, who was? Anna realized with sudden clarity that she was no longer sitting on the cushioned seat of Sarah's couch, she felt the familiar press of wood beneath her and against her back in rising columns.  
Anna opened her eyes.  
She was no longer in Sarah's living room, she was still in a living room, but not one that she had ever known. The room was wide and spacious, a large television hung on the wall above an electric fireplace, a thick and dark table took up the majority of the room and it was varnished with candles and leaves of red, orange, and yellow. There was also a kitchen complete with a large refrigerator, marble countertops, and a wide stove top range.  
There was a tall man standing shirtless in front of the stove, he had broad shoulders and impeccable posture, he was whistling “Pride and Joy” while putting the cooked bacon on a plate. Anna found that she was unable to say anything.  
Anna uttered a soft grunt of astonishment and the man peered over his shoulder towards her.  
“Mornin' sweetie, didn't hear you come in. How'd you sleep?”  
Anna glanced towards the stairs that led to the second floor but couldn't see anyone coming down them, not Sarah or even her sister Madi. The man turned around with a raised eyebrow, staring directly at her as if to say “Well?”  
For some reason Anna was sure that he wouldn't be able to see her, she thought that she could play the part of the silent observer, but he began to talk to her as if he actually knew her and it was unsettling.  
“W-what?”  
“I said how'd you sleep little bear, ya got some gunk in your ears?”  
“Oh,” Anna mumbled, “Okay I guess.”  
“Is your sister up yet?”  
My what? Anna looked down once more and saw a body that was not hers. She was familiar with it though, with its porcelain white skin and golden locks that hung loosely about her shoulders, Anna had manifested herself within the body of Sarah, though she was so terribly small still, Anna estimated her age to be five. Anna had to fight the urge to relish a moment she had envisioned to many times before: being Sarah. That was what the Messenger had said right? ‘Become her.’  
Sarah's father, her father now, had no idea that anything was amiss with his darling little girl, or so it seemed and Anna (Sarah) aimed to keep it that way, she would play the part of Sarah in order to get the information she needed.

Anna's face had gone abnormally pale and she hadn't moved in about twenty minutes, Sarah honestly couldn't tell if she was conscious or not. The glass had shattered directly above her but the shards hadn’t landed anywhere near Anna.  
“Anna?” She whispered, “Anna can u hear me? Are you okay?”  
Anna's face scrunched up in concentration before answering, “Yes, I'm here.”

Sarah's adult voice came to Anna suddenly, asking if she could hear her, yes, of course she could, she was sitting on the couch next to her, but then again she was miles away in what she could only assume was Sarah's childhood home. How could she respond to Sarah's without breaking the facade that she had to maintain in front of the man? She closed her eyes once more and focused her thoughts, sending them outward to find her love. Yes, I am here.

This is nuts. Did Sarah really believe that this girl could contact the dead, that she was currently doing so? On any normal day, no, of course she didn't... but the light... Electrical malfunction, don't be an idiot. Okay.  
“Did you find him?”  
“Yes.”  
Sarah's heart began to race, could it really be? She wanted nothing more than to be able to talk to her father again. If Anna was messing with her, Sarah decided then and there that she would break her nose. These were not emotions to be played with. Sarah's eyes had welled with tears.

Sarah spoke, “I need to know that it's really him. What did he used to call me?”  
At the exact moment of her response, the man responded as if he had heard Sarah, “Little bear? You okay?”

Sarah's tears ran down her cheeks and she barely held in a scream. That was his voice! That was her father's voice calling her the nickname which she had never told anyone! But, the voice came from Anna, it was no imitation either, she would know her father's voice anywhere, it was as if Anna had swallowed him whole and he had called out to her from within. Sarah was convinced. Convinced and mortified.

Anna (Sarah) nodded, “I'm fine daddy.” The words felt strange coming out of her mouth, but they had a certain flow to them, vanilla in flavor and syrupy as they ran from her lips.  
Alan Brewer loaded her bacon together with the rest of her breakfast and sat down at the table opposite from her, “Another bad dream? “  
“Must've been, yeah.” Anna (Sarah) said and suddenly had an idea. “I dreamed that you died actually.”  
He grinned, “Did you now?”  
She nodded, “It was at one of your barbecues.”

Sarah's apartment radiated with heat, emanating in waves from Anna with her eyes still closed.  
“Anna, that was my dad's voice, is he there, I mean is he really really there?” Tears streamed down Sarah's face.  
“Yes.”  
Sarah was trembling, sweating, and crying, “I-I-I don't know what to say... besides fuck the essay,” she laughed, “This is real, I can feel it coming off you. Anna, I'm freezing up, I have no idea what to say.” She laughed again.

“Don't worry, I think I know what I'm supposed to ask him, leave it to me.” Anna sent out towards Sarah's apartment miles, maybe even worlds away.  
“You were at the grill,” Anna (Sarah) continued, “everyone was there, even the Ashford family.” She said with a smile. Anna had no idea who the Ashfords were but (Sarah) did and that's all that mattered here. Wherever here was.  
“You collapsed onto the grill,” she continued, all traces of a smile were wiped from her face. “None of us knew what to do...” Anna could feel (Sarah's) tears welling in her eyes.  
“Honey,” He began compassionately.  
“I know. It's just a dream. That's exactly what you were gonna say huh?” Anna (Sarah) wiped a tear from her eye. “I know that, it just felt like it really happened, it felt so real.”  
“In the dream.” He said.  
She gave him a puzzled look, “Right, yeah, in the dream.” She shot him a grin which didn't feel completely genuine to her.  
From somewhere behind her, she heard “In the dream.” echoed towards her in an eerie diatonic voice.  
Alan Brewer slapped his hand onto the table with a loud Whap!  
“Sorry. There was a bug.” He explained, “Continue.”  
She glanced down at the table. “Where did your breakfast go?” His gaze followed hers and found the table completely bare. “Of course, how silly of me,” He stood up and turned back towards the kitchen, “I forgot to bring it over.” He tossed the plate onto the table, causing a couple of egg bits to fall off the plate. He sat down again with a labored huff, “Continue.”  
“Continue.” The diatonic voice echoed once more.  
“Hold on a second, you already brought your breakfast over here.” Anna (Sarah) said.  
“Then why did you ask in the first place?” He hissed towards her.  
“Bitch!” The diatonic voice cried from behind her once more.  
“What do you mean?” Anna asked,  
“What the fuck is that voice?” (Sarah) asked.

The relentless and unwavering heat in Sarah's apartment broke suddenly, loose papers flew about in the apartment as a strong gust of freezing wind filled the room. Sarah's hair flapped crazily in the whirlwind . She shouted Anna's name, though she could hardly even hear herself over the roar of the sudden blizzarding winds.

“Honestly child,” The voice came from the man in front of her but it was also coming from a separate entity that was slowly making an arc around her peripheral senses. “It was entertaining at first, cute, even. But I don't want to play games any longer.”  
Anna (Sarah) saw movement in the corner of her eye and snapped her head sideways, the enormous auburn Irish wolfhound strode out from the shadows, its face still streaked back in the brackish and dripping lifeblood of some unfortunate creature. The dog's gaze caught Anna's and for a singular moment, the world stood still.  
Finally. After nearly two decades of mystery, all was revealed to her. This was her destiny, to fulfill the payment and to claim her as she was now; the two of them, becoming one. Of course! It was so obvious, how could it have been anything else?  
The wolfhound broke the gaze and the world continued as it had always done, although now Anna burned with purpose and self loathing for not having noticed the simplest answer, the Occam's razor. (Sarah)'s cry of alarm broke Anna out of her state, and the two of them stared at the man that had once been Sarah's father and the dog which sat beside him, together, the two of them were Death, as Death's Messengers had prophesied.  
The hound's jaw hung slack, blood dripped from its canines, but its lips never moved while it spoke. It's voice was low and thick with the huskiness of a matured woman, “Telling the dead man the story of how he died, from the mouth of his own child nonetheless, couldn't have done it better myself.” The man standing next to the dog continued to mouth along with what was being said, but the voice was unmistakably coming from the hound. “I know the two of us have an understanding, there is a debt that must be paid, I've been patient for years but no more!”  
“What the fuck is this?” (Sarah) screamed.  
“Do what you must!” The hound called Death snarled and the room surrounding them all burst into flames.  
The man standing beside the hound began to melt as though he were made of wax, the wallpaper peeled, caught flame, and the ashes rose towards the ceiling on the draft of the inferno. The distantly familiar sense of bungee-cord snapped Anna out of (Sarah) and upwards out of the blazing room. The hound's gaze followed her ascension as (Sarah)'s dress caught on fire and she began to scream.


End file.
